


I Hope the Night will Never End

by Magnolie



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-03-30
Packaged: 2017-12-07 00:48:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/742148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnolie/pseuds/Magnolie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Shortstories about Rumpelstilskin and Belle and their life together in the Dark Castle and in Storybrooke, inspired by both the original story "La Belle et la Bete" and the Disney Movie.</p><p>“What shall I say? She is and has always been the Lady of the house.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Lady of the House

**Author's Note:**

> A little while ago, I started to write down all my ideas for Rumbelle Fanfictions. I never intended to actually make stories out of them, but during the last months, Once Upon A Time has given me so much calmness and stability when I needed it. I had to learn to take time for myself to relax. So I found all these notes and decided to finally type them out. I hope you like what I made out of them.

The Lady of the House

It was already afternoon when he walked down the Syncamore Lane, one of the more expensive streets in Storybrooke. The sun was slowly washing away the grayish clouds in the sky above him but not yet shining through. Whole Storybrooke was waiting for spring to start but instead snow and rain came down nearly every week, dying the town – and landscape – brown and white and gray. 

When he reached the house he had been going to, he checked his phone again to see of someone had tried to call him. He then entered the yard through the little gate and went up the stairs to the door. He knocked twice and a third time but then found, that the door was not locked. It startled him for a moment. Emma had told him that his father always used to lock the door, especially when he was not there.

“Anybody home?” Neal asked loudly into the floor of the house. No lights were on but it was still early enough to only use daylight.

“Hello?” he asked again, stretching the last syllable of the word.  
As no one answered, he closed the door behind himself and walked in. He saw two kinds of shoes placed on the floor next to the door: A pair of black gent’s shoes and another pair of brown heels that surely did not belong to his father.

“Father?” he took of his shoes with his feet, leaning against a wall. He walked into the great living room on the ground floor but no one was there. He wanted to leave again when his glare fell on the dining table. About eight high stacks of books were placed on it, some stretching as high as a meter.

“Good Lord…” he murmured taking one of the books in his hands.

“I thought I heard someone!” a lovely voice said behind him in the floor. He turned around.

Belle was wearing blue skinny jeans and a black pullover that was much too big and probably his father’s.

“Oh I’m sorry I didn’t mean to sneak in.”

“Ouh no, it’s fine, this is your father’s house so feel welcome to hop in whenever you like.” She smiled widely.

“You are Belle.” He said, placing the book back on the table and gesturing to her with his right index finger.

“Indeed I am.”

“And you are talking like my father.” I observed dryly. 

Belle laughed affectionately and came a little closer.

“We haven’t been introduced yet really.” She stretched one hand out and shook his.

“So it is true. The old man really found someone to love.”

“That is the short version of the story.” She said.

“And the long version?”

“Is evening filling.” She said with a smile to the ground. He saw her blush.

“You were part of a deal?” Neal asked grinning, seeing her blush a little more.

“I was. But there’s really more to it. Anyway, how can I help you?”

“I was… I was actually looking for my father, you happen to know where he is?” Neal answered, scratching his neck.

“He’s at the shop, but he will be home soon. Would you like to wait here and have some tea?” she offered with a gesture to the kitchen.

“You have coffee too?”

“Somewhere we probably do.”

_We._

Neal watched the young woman while she prepared a little tray with two cups and a small plate for cookies. It was a pretty tea set. White cups with a golden fringe and blue branches. She made a kettle of Tea for herself and also prepared coffee for him. She seemed to be used to preparing and arranging tea on a tray, he thought while watching her.

Belle then carried the tray to the living room and placed it on the white table in front of the couches.

“Please.” She offered to him and also sat down herself.

Neal first did not say anything but merely sipped his coffee and ate some of the chocolate cookies.

“What are the books for?” he asked eventually after a few minutes of silence.

“Oh I just assembled all the books in the house here and putting them upstairs in a shelf so they’re all together.”

“Arranging a library?”

“Not quite. We’re thinking about renovating the basement to make it look a bit like our old home, the books will go there if we ever find the time to really do it.” She smiled and emptied her cup. Neal gasped.

“So you two also lived together back in our land?” Neal he requested unbelievingly.

She took a moment to answer the question and seemed to be thinking hard about it or at least how to put the words.

“Yes, we did. For a while at least.” She smiled but there was also something sad in her eyes.

“How long?”

“It must have been about six or seven months, maybe a little longer. I came to him in late autumn and left in summer.” Now her face grew even a little sadder.

“Why did you leave?”

“You are quite curious!” She replied and grinned again, “But I think this is a story your father should tell you some time.”

Neal nodded.

“I did know about you though.” She crossed her legs on the couch.

“You did?”

“Yes, I found a boy’s clothing in one of the rooms of his... place and asked him. He made me a deal to tell the story.”

“Oh, I am so sorry for that!” Neal pressed his hands together, “He is terrible when it comes to his deals.” But Belle assuaged him.

“No, no, I dealt with your father nearly every week; the deal about you was just… our last one.”

“What exactly did you know?”

“Just that he had lost you and your mother and that you loved you very dearly.”

Neal swallowed hard.

“I actually don’t know how to call you. Rumpel always refers to you as ‘Bae’ but Emma uses ‘Neal’. So, what should I call you?”

_Rumpel._

“Neal’s fine.” He said.

“Nice. So, Neal, would you like me to call your father?” She asked, rising from her place on the couch.

“Call whose father?”

He had actually been at home for a few minutes and waited in the floor as soon as he had seen his son’s shoes on the ground and his beloved’s voice in the living room. 

“There he is.” Belle smiled widely at the sight of him standing in the door dropping of his coat and welcoming her with a kiss. All the sadness Neal had seen on her face had vanished in a matter of seconds.

“I leave you two alone down here if that’s alright.” She grabbed some of the books from the table, “I still need to get these upstairs.”

She turned around once more, already standing in the doorframe.

“It was a pleasure to finally meet you Neal; I hope to see you around more often.”

“The pleasure was mine, and thank you for the coffee.” He smiled and waved his hand.

When he heard her steps above their heads he looked at his father, grinning widely.  
“She calls you Rumpel.”

“And she leaves the door unlocked after being abducted and shot.” His father shook his head and sighed.

“She’s a wonderful woman, if you break her heart I’ll be gone in a minute.” Neal said with an honestly threatening voice.

“Believe me, I’m the one who is afraid that she leaves on day.”

“She won’t, if you don’t give her a reason to.”

Father and son kept quiet for a moment listening to Belle’s soft steps above them.

“So, you and Belle, how did that happen? She told me you lived together back in our land?”

“We did.”

“Was she your housekeeper?” he asked jokingly, gesturing towards the tea tray and saw his father clearing his throat and looking down.

“Oh no, not seriously father! She looks like a princess; she couldn’t have been your housekeeper!” Neal added almost furiously.

Mr. Gold stayed quiet again for a second and looked at the bunch of red roses on the table before he smiled.

“What shall I say? She is and has always been the Lady of the house.”


	2. All the Beds, in all the Rooms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumpel makes Belle a deal to get a new room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first story about Rumpel and Belle at the Dark Castle. It is set right at the beginning only weeks after Belle has 'moved in'.

All the Beds, in all the Rooms

She awoke feeling sick. Not sick from a bug though, or her monthly bleeding. Belle felt sick from another night on the floor. Her muscles, especially her back, hurt as if she had been lifting stones or anything else heavy for hours. Taking care of the castle was hard work, but she never had to lift anything heavy. She knew that this pain was caused by the nights on the straw.

She moaned loudly as she got up, looking bleary-eyed and tired. If she was going to sleep on that for the rest of eternity, eternity would probably be over soon.   
She went down to the small washing room by the kitchen, that he had showed her on the second day of her ‘employment’, taking off her nightgown and washing her body with a bucket of cold water.

“You did the brave thing…” she murmured as she trembled and crouched down to reach the small pipe that provided her with more, fresher water from the fountain. She was not sure how it worked but he had explained her to turn a small wheel and water would flow out of it. After she had washed and picked all straw, sweat and dirt from her body, she took an old towel from a little hook and hurried to the kitchen where she had left the fire smolder during the night. She had soon found out that she could use it to warm herself from the icy showers in the morning so she also kept her working attire in a small cupboard next to the fireplace.

She almost doze off again after sitting down in the big armchair, he had let her bring down here in the third week after her arrival. The fire was warm and its sound made her feel comfortable and comforted. She did not have long until he would come to the great hall and would await his breakfast to be served, but she took a few moments to remember that is was the right thing to do while she was savoring the sound of the fire.

It was almost half past six when she rose again and put on her dress. It was old and ugly. It had, a long time ago, been green with yellow flowers but time had left its mark on it and now it was almost brownish with countless spots and stains. It served its purpose, she thought every morning when she took it out of the wardrobe.

It was seven when she carried the small tray with three slices of toast, some oatmeal, butter and jam upstairs. He was already sitting in his chair, waiting for her. He had his impish grin on his face as she entered the room. Seeing her every morning coming upstairs with his meals had enlightened his day in a special way. The first person he now saw in the morning was this beautiful, little princess. Compared all the lost souls he had endure for ages every new morning – Belle had been a major improvement.   
And although he would have never admitted it, he was slowly growing fond of her.

Belle smiled as she approached the table and with the tray before she put her hands akimbo on her hips.  
“The weekday-breakfast, Sir, and black tea, as usual.” She announced, massaging her left shoulder with her right hand while he was examining his breakfast. He heard an unpleasant noise, coming directly from his caretaker’s upper body or more specifically her shoulders. Her face was contorted with pain.

“What was that?” he asked reproachfully.

“I am sorry Sir, I’m not yet used to sleeping on the floor.”

“Do you feel like that every morning?” he put a piece of lemon into his tea.

“I’m afraid yes, but I would rather not complain.” She put the plate and the jam on the table.

“Well, as long as you shoulders keep making funny noises while I am eating, you are complaining. Can’t have that, dearie.” His last words were more a sing-sang than normal speech and Belle smiled for a second.

“I am sorry, I won’t happen again.” She nodded and then picked up the tray before disappearing again.

“I make you a deal!” he exclaimed when she was already out of his eye-sight. He could hear her stop and coming back slowly, “What would you think about that?”

“I would say that depends on the deal. I’m afraid there is not much I could still offer to you and there are certain things that I won’t offer to you.” She blushed and he grinned again acting offended.

“You can have a new room in the servant’s quarters, if you accomplish to make all the beds in all the rooms of the Dark Castle until sunset.”

“Will it be a room with a bed made for someone of my size?”

“Yes.”

“And a fireplace?”

“And a cupboard for your clothing.”

“So not another lumber room with nothing in it?”

“You are quite persistent when it comes to making your deals, but yes, a chamber with a bed, a fireplace and a cupboard.”

“How many bedrooms does the castle have?” She asked bravely.

“Oh I have never counted them, but I tell you what, if you also count them, you’ll get a new dress too.”

Belle looked at him unbelievingly.

“If I were you, I would start now. I don’t know the number of the rooms for sure, but I know that your task is not accomplished within a few hours. You may skip Lunch but we will have Dinner and hour after sunset.”

She nodded before she placed the tray back on the table and raced out of the room without another glance at him.  
He was right, the place was huge and she had yet managed to clean all the rooms on the first floor. She knew that there were at least twelve smaller bedrooms on this floor, and the servant quarters in the basement by the kitchen and the washing room she used. The first floor had about twenty, she had seen them all and then there were the second and the third floor where she had rarely been yet. She did not even know where he slept.

Little confident she made her way downstairs when he appeared before her.

“And one more thing, there is no bedroom you have to worry about in the West Wing!” he waged his finger before her face.

“I… I understand.” Was the only thing she managed to say, shocked by his sudden appearance.

He nodded and then left her to her duties, this time just walking off instead of disappearing in purple smoke.  
Each bedroom in the servants’ quarters held at least two beds, some more. She hushed from one room to the next, always making sure that they were done nicely. The mere idea of him, magically having the beds looking used for her to make them again, made her role her eyes. But if she would carry on with this thought she would soon be asking herself again about why he had brought her here, and she knew she did not have an answer to that (yet).

It was already early noon when she left the basement to carry on with the ground-floor. Her arms had started to hurt by then from pulling and pushing the blankets and pillows. But these were only the small beds, now came the luxurious guest-bedrooms that were never filled with any guests, as no one ever stayed at their place.

Their.

She had to chuckle at the thought of calling the castle ‘their place’. Maybe a new room would finally make her feel homey. If she got if of course.  
It took her another hour to make the beds on this floor. She had now counted 31 rooms with even more beds and the clock in last room on the ground floor stroke two after noon. Without a break she hurried to the next best stair she could find and reached the first floor. Empty, long floors with dozens of doors stretched before her eyes that were slowly filling with water and surrender. 

She was never going to do this.  
But she was not going to surrender now. She had been making beds for more than seven hours; she would carry on until sunset. And she did.  
She spent all noon and afternoon on the first floor, hurrying from bed to the next, sometimes neglecting details, hoping he would not check every single room. But in the end, every bed she made looked nice and decent.

The sun had already begun her way down when she reached the third floor. Something was different here. The whole castle was dark and old and creepy, but this really was a great deal worse. All windows were closed with thick, dark curtains and she had to light a candle to see further than a few yards. As she turned around, she saw that the hall she was standing in directly led to the West Wing. A cold shiver ran down her spine. 

Shadows played gruesome games on the walls as she lit in the direction of the western Wing. She swallowed hard and found herself tempted to take a step toward it but then remembered her actual task, the beds. With one last glance, she turned around and hurried into the other direction, not noticing that Rumpelstiltskin, who had been watching her since Lunch, relaxed again in his chair, relieved that she had not chosen to continue her way.

 

Sun was already setting when she finished her 103rd room for the day. She was so tired that she felt tempted to just lay down on one of the beds and fall asleep. But she was not done with this floor yet and there was still the third and last level above her. Every now and then a small tear left her eye, telling her to give up and just return to the kitchen or her ‘room’.

If she had known which rooms had beds and which did not, things would have been much easier. She had to open every door and enter every room, sometimes even open the curtains to see if there were any beds. Once or twice she had stood in awe, looking at the beautiful mural paintings, wondering who the women and men in the pictures were. If the paintings had names, they did not sound familiar to her and if she could find a date, they were from long forgotten times, times she had not even been told about in her weekly lessons. Sometimes, her mind was spinning wild stories about their lives, their love and pain. Longing and Curiosity enthralled her more often than she had liked it. She would never know for sure, all this knowledge was lost.

She was just making another bed in the 124th room when Rumpelstiltskin joined her.

“I’m almost done with this floor!” she yelled, hurrying from one side of the bed to the next.

“And the next one?” he asked playfully, sitting in an easy chair.

Belle did not answer but just hurry to the next room.

He had watched her almost all day through the mirror: making beds, wandering through the halls, looking at the paintings and artifacts in the different rooms and wondering about them. He had actually tried to focus on his work, but did not manage to get anything done with the sound of her heavy breathing coming through the mirror and her lovely face, flushed from the running and working every time he looked up.

She reached the last room on the floor and found him sitting in a chaise lounge, counting the seconds to sunset. She ran to the bed, pulled all the blankets down, positioned the pillow and put all the blankets up again nicely. 

She was just done when he piped cheerfully.  
“Time’s up, dearie!”

Belle started to cry and fell on her knees. All this work and she hadn’t even reached the last floor. Al least she was so exhausted, she would fall asleep easily tonight.

“Why are you crying?” he asked her confused.

“I didn’t make it. I didn’t do it!” she sobbed, pushing herself up from the floor and looking at him with red eyes. She had sworn to never to show weakness before him in her first night in the dungeon, to not give him that too. But now all the pain, the homesickness and the fatigue came over her and left her body in form of tears.

“There are no bedrooms on the upper floor, Belle.” He said, helping her to stand up. Her hands were soft and warm and she had the most adorable look in her eyes when she realized what he had told her.

“So, how many rooms have you counted?”

“135 bedrooms, the servants’ quarters included.” She said, still sobbing lightly.

“Very well, now you’ve earned yourself a room and a dress.” 

She was most surprised when he offered her his arm and first looked at him, startled before she thankfully took it.

He led her downstairs to a bedroom that she could not remember form today. A bed, twice as big as she had expected, stood on the right wall. A fireplace enlightened with one of his fillips. He let her go to open the cupboard next to the fireplace. Two beautiful dresses, one dark read with fine, beige lace and one light blue, less genteel but not less pretty hung in the dark on the hanging rail.

She turned around and smiled.  
“They are beautiful, all of this is beautiful. Thank you so much.” She said with breathy voice and felt the urge to hug him but kneaded her hands instead.

He nodded and bowed.  
“I’m glad you like it.” Was the only thing he managed to reply, feeling overwhelmed with the strange, new feeling in his stomach that his caretaker had suddenly caused.


End file.
